Christmas Miracles

by MacLean, Julianne

  I paused, just for effect, and smiled at her. “We bought a house.”

  Bev stopped in her tracks. Her eyebrows lifted with excitement. “No way! That’s great! Where is it?”

  I pointed in the direction of the parking lot and beyond. “It’s not far from here, on the most adorable little street off of Inglis, close to Saint Mary’s.”

  “That’s amazing!”

  “I know, right? We’re so excited. I can’t believe we got it. It has hardwood floors throughout, and three bedrooms. The kitchen and bathrooms need some work, but that’s why we got it at such a good price. We can drive by it later, if you like.”

  “Of course!” Bev hugged me. “Congratulations. This is so great!”

  We started walking again, with Leo pulling hard on the leash, hurrying us along.

  “So does this mean what I think it means?” Bev gave me a sidelong look.

  My sister knew me too well. She understood that neither Wes nor I had wanted to start a family in the high rise apartment building where we currently lived, which was why I had suggested we start shopping for a house sooner, rather than later, because I was turning twenty-seven soon. Not that the clock was really ticking, but Wes and I had talked about it, and we were both eager to start a family before either of us turned thirty.

  As far as the house went, we wanted something with a backyard and with other young families in the neighborhood, so that our children would have playmates. We weren’t opposed to buying a fixer-upper if it meant we could settle down in the South End—the priciest location on the peninsula—but we wanted to be near the school where we both worked and where our children would eventually attend.

  I linked my arm though Bev’s. “As a matter of fact, it does mean what you’re thinking. I guess I can let the cat out of the bag now. We’ve started trying.”

  Bev rested her head on my shoulder. “I’m so happy for you. And I can’t wait to be an auntie. You know how I love babies.”

  Bev, who recently completed a nursing degree, had been assigned to the obstetrics floor at the hospital where she worked.

  “I’ll come and babysit for you anytime,” she added, jumping ahead and jogging a few steps when Leo pulled on the leash. “Seriously, this is the best news ever. Does Mom know yet?” she called over her shoulder.

  I hurried to catch up. “No, and let’s keep it quiet for now. I only just went off the pill, and with the house purchase… We’ll be busy for the next few weeks because it’s a tight closing. We move in a month. And I don’t want to get Mom’s hopes up until there’s actually some good news to report. It might take us a while.”

  We passed a lady with two Schnauzers, and they stopped to sniff Leo. We all chatted for a moment, then started off again and turned up the path toward the stone Martello Tower.

  “So, was Wes keen to start trying?” Bev asked. “You didn’t have to talk him into it? Some husbands are like that, you know. They have to be dragged kicking and screaming into parenthood.”

  “Not Wes,” I replied, as we strode up the hill. “You know he’s an only child, and he always felt like there was a lot of pressure on him to be the best at everything when he was a kid, so he wants at least three, maybe four children. It’s the money thing that makes him uneasy. He wants to be sure that we’re ready, financially, and I’m still paying off my student loans. That’s why he wanted to wait until we had a house, so that we’re settled and not throwing money out the window on rent every month.”

  I paused a few seconds, then decided to tell Bev everything.

  “But I did have to talk him into asking his parents for some money, for the down payment on the house. We didn’t have enough saved, and it’s a pricey neighborhood. He thought we should keep looking for something cheaper, but it was so perfect. It’s like the house we had when Dad was alive. I just couldn’t let it go.”

  “So his parents helped you out?”

  “Yes, thank goodness. But he hated asking. He’s just so proud when it comes to money. I think it’s partly because his father didn’t want him to become a teacher. He wanted him to go to law school or medical school or something impressive, where he’d make a giant salary. And then…not only did he become a teacher, but he married one. They’re kind of snobby that way. Wes hates giving his father a reason to say I told you so.”

  “But his parents like you, right?” Bev asked.

  “Oh yes. They’ve always been great to me, especially his mom. I love Barbara.”

  “And Wes loves teaching,” Bev added. “Surely they want him to be happy.”

  “Exactly.” I waved my hand dismissively through the air. “But it doesn’t matter. They gave us the down payment, so we’ll take it from here. We’ll be able to afford the monthly mortgage payments.”

  Bev grinned and nudged me in the ribs with her elbow. “And soon you’ll have a little bambino, and his parents will be over the moon when they see their first grandbaby. They’ll be tickled pink and happy as clams. Then they won’t care that their son didn’t become a doctor or a lawyer.”

  Leo spotted another golden retriever running around off leash on the grass next to the stone tower. His owner threw a Frisbee and the dog leaped into the air to catch it.

  Leo bolted, dragging Bev behind him. I laughed and hurried to catch up.

  * * *

  Wes and I had been in the new house for a month when our second anniversary rolled around. He surprised me on a Saturday morning with breakfast in bed, a bouquet of flowers, and a card that suggested I get up and start packing, because we’d be spending the weekend at White Point Beach Resort—an ocean front vacation spot only two hours from the city. I’d never been there before but always dreamed about going.

  Wes had booked us a rustic cottage overlooking the ocean, and the first thing we did after we unpacked our bags was head down to the white sand beach. We walked arm in arm while chatting over the thunderous roar of the surf.

  That night, surrounded by colorful autumn leaves, we went to the main lodge for a delicious meal in the dining room, then retired to our cottage, where we snuggled on the sofa before a hot, crackling fire.

  It was one of the most romantic weekends I’d ever known—perhaps even more romantic than our honeymoon—and I let Wes know that he had chosen the perfect anniversary gift.

  “These have been the best two years of my life,” I told him as the waves exploded on the rocks outside our window. “I never imagined I could love anyone like I love you. I didn’t think it was possible, not for me.”

  “Because of what happened with your dad,” Wes gently replied as he rubbed my shoulder with the pad of his thumb.

  A lump formed in my throat, but I swallowed over it to push it back down. “Yes. It just blindsided all of us. One day he was there, the next day he was gone, and for years I didn’t want to set myself up to feel that kind of pain and loss again. But then you came along…”

  A log shifted in the grate and sparks flew up the chimney.

  Wes was quiet for a long moment. Then at last, he spoke. “That worries me, Claire.”

  I sat up to look at him. “Why?”

  “Because…” He hesitated. “You know I’ll never leave you, or do anything to cause you pain, but none of us are immortal. I can’t guarantee that something won’t happen to me, that I won’t die young. I hope it doesn’t happen, of course. I’d rather live to be a hundred and I hope I do, but life doesn’t always work out the way you want it to. And if it ever did happen that way, I hope you wouldn’t give up on love altogether.”

  I frowned slightly. “I know what you’re saying, but don’t worry. When you kissed me in the elevator that day, I knew I could never walk away. I decided then and there that sharing my life with you was going to be worth it, even if there was pain down the road. I’m a realist. I know we can’t live forever—death comes for all of us—but I can’t let it stop me from enjoying what we have today.”

  Wes cupped my face in his hands and kissed away my tears. “I love you, more tha
n anything, and I can’t wait to have a baby with you. Lots of babies. You’re going to be an amazing mom.”

  I smiled. “And you’re going to be an amazing dad.”

  I snuggled back down into the warmth of his arms. “How many kids do you want?” I asked.

  “Four,” he replied, without hesitation. “Maybe even five. I want a big, noisy family where there’s lots of chaos. Not like what I had.”

  We talked for a while about what it was like for him as an only child, and he admitted that although his family was wealthy and they gave him everything a child could ask for, it was lonely sometimes.

  “I’m on board for five kids,” I said with a smile. “I want to give you everything, Wes, in return for what you’ve given me. And I want a big family too, because I know how fragile and precious life is. I want to live it to the fullest. I want our kids to have lots of brothers and sisters, so they’ll always have each other, even after we’re gone.”

  Wes kissed the top of my head. “I wish I could have met your father, because he must have been an incredible man—to bring someone like you into the world.”

  I smiled. “I wish he could have met you, too. He would have loved you.”

  Wes pulled me into his arms and held me tight. Then, when the fire died down, we went to bed and made love with passion and tenderness.

  I felt surrounded by magic.

  * * *

  Two weeks later, Wes and I sat across from each other at the kitchen table in our new house, marking assignments and sharing stories about our day.

  Suddenly, I felt a rush of euphoria and couldn’t contain it. I looked up and grinned at him.

  “I don’t want to jinx anything,” I said, “but I can’t help it. Something feels different.”

  “What do you mean?” Wes set down his pen.

  I took a deep breath and let it out. “I think I might be pregnant.”

  His eyebrows lifted and he looked at me expectantly. “Really? Are you sure?”

  I laughed a little. “No, I’m not sure. I haven’t taken a test or anything, but it’s like I can feel it.” I sat back and laid a hand on my belly. “That weekend at White Point… It was the right time of the month for us to try, and I feel all tingly inside, and so happy. And this morning I gagged while brushing my teeth. That’s never happened before. And today at lunch, I had the weirdest craving for a hot dog with relish and mustard. And you know I hate hot dogs.”

  Wes rose from his chair and circled around the table. “Babe…this is incredible.” He sank to his knees before me and laid his hand over mine, on top of my belly. “Do you know how much I love you?”

  “As much as I love you?”

  He wrapped his arms around me and rested his cheek on my stomach. I ran my fingers through his thick, dark hair and felt completely at peace with this wonderful man. I wanted to pinch myself. How could I be this fortunate? This blessed? And would our first child be a boy or a girl?

  It didn’t matter to me. I would be happy either way. I was never so sure that everything was going to work out.

  But three days later, I got my period.

  I was saddened by the fact that I wasn’t pregnant yet, and felt embarrassed and ridiculous for having believed it was so, and for telling Wes about it with stars in my eyes.

  When he came home from the gym that night and I explained that we hadn’t been successful, I saw the disappointment in his eyes, but thankfully it didn’t linger. He dropped his gym bag at the front door, strode forward, pulled me into his arms and held me close.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered in my ear while he rubbed his hand up and down my back. “I know how hopeful you were, but we only just started trying. These things can take time.”

  “That’s not what they tell you in high school,” I replied, trying to make light of it, even though I felt melancholy.

  He chuckled and stood back. “Well, since you’re not pregnant, let’s drown our sorrows.” He took me by the hand, led me into the kitchen for a big bowl of butterscotch ripple ice cream and a glass of white wine.

  That’s the kind of guy he was. He always knew exactly the right thing to say and do to make me feel better.

  As I dug into my ice cream, I decided that I wouldn’t suggest such a thing to Wes again. I wouldn’t speculate that I was pregnant until my period was at least seven days late and I’d taken a test. No sense in both of us getting our hopes up.

  Chapter Four

  The holiday season proved to be a challenge after Wes and I had gotten married, because it was difficult to divide our time between our two families. Though he was an only child, he had many aunts, uncles and cousins who traveled from Ontario to stay at the Radcliffe mansion for Christmas. It was a massive yearly gathering, and everyone opened gifts together on Christmas morning.

  Meanwhile, my family had always enjoyed a quiet, intimate supper with just me, Bev and my mom on Christmas Eve—and now we included Wes. So he and I scrambled to be in both places on that special night—dinner at 4:00 at my mom’s house, and a second dinner at 8:00 with Wes’s family at their mansion on the shores of St. Margaret’s Bay, where we would spend the night.

  We arrived at my mom’s house early with a salad and a bottle of wine, and sat down for a traditional Christmas Eve turkey dinner with all the trimmings. When my mother tried to pour me a glass of wine from the bottle we had brought, I politely declined and opted for apple cider instead, which caused my mother to stare at me curiously for a moment, and then smile.

  Later, Bev took hold of my arm and pulled me into the bathroom.

  “What’s going on?” she asked while sucking on a candy cane. “Why are you not drinking wine?”

  I shook my head and gestured for her to stay calm. “Really. It’s nothing. I don’t know anything for sure yet. But I’m three days late.”

  Her face lit up. “Really? Do you think this is it?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought I was pregnant after White Point, but you know what happened there, so I’ve learned not to assume anything until I take an actual test from the drug store and get a positive result. But I’m really hopeful. Our timing was bang on this month, if you know what I mean.”

  Bev laughed. “I have a good feeling, Claire. Wouldn’t it be the best Christmas present ever? To find out that you’re expecting a baby?”

  “It would.” My body tingled with excitement.

  The following morning, at the Radcliffes’, pandemonium broke out when fourteen of us, all in our pajamas, gathered around the Christmas tree to start opening presents. The ripping and tearing of wrapping paper, mixed with laughter and oohs and aahs as everyone showed off their bounty, made for an exciting time.

  I’m embarrassed to say that I lost my composure completely when I opened my gift from Wes’s mother, Barbara. Carefully, I removed the red silk bow, opened up the box, and peeled back the clean white tissue paper.

  Inside, I found an antique sterling silver baby cup and spoon that Wes’s paternal grandmother had given to Barbara for Christmas twenty-nine years earlier, before she gave birth to Wes. A small card inside explained that it had been passed down for four generations, always at Christmas, and always to the eldest Radcliffe son and his wife.

  I burst into tears.

  “This is so special,” I said. “I can’t believe it. It’s the best gift in the world, Barbara. I can’t wait to put it to good use.”

  Wes, who sat next to me on the sofa, put his arm around me and kissed my forehead. “I love you, babe.”

  Everyone cheered and clapped, and more tears streamed down my cheeks.

  “Not that we’re pressuring you or anything,” Barbara said over the hullabaloo as she passed me a box of Kleenex. “There’s no rush. You two have plenty of time. You should enjoy these years of freedom before the babies arrive. I just want you to know that we’re delighted to have you as a part of our family, Claire.”

  “I’m delighted, too,” I replied, laughing with happiness through my tears. “I love you a
ll. Merry Christmas!” I rose to my feet, stepped over the mountain of wrapping paper and glittery ribbons on the floor, and hugged Barbara in front of the tree.

  Wes’s father, George—a stern, serious man and natural patriarch of the family—forged a path through the mess and hugged me as well.

  * * *

  Later that afternoon, after a delicious lunch with the Radcliffes, Wes and I drove home to our cozy little craftsman style home in the South End. A fresh blanket of snow had fallen that morning, and the old sections of the city looked like something you’d see on the front of a Victorian Christmas card.

  We pulled into our driveway and while Wes checked his phone for messages, I stepped out of the car to gaze up at the first stars visible in the sky. The moon was full and beginning its rise. It was a peaceful, quiet evening.

  Closing my eyes, I breathed in the fresh winter air and made a wish.

  I’m sure you know what I wished for…

  I then turned and noticed that the house across the street—which had been listed for sale since before we purchased ours—was showing a SOLD sign.

  “Look at that,” I said. “It must be a Christmas miracle.”

  Wes stepped out of the car and turned to look. “Wow. It’s about time. I thought that house would be on the market forever. I hope the new owners are up to the challenge.”

  From the outside, it was a charming, modest little craftsman like ours, but we had looked at it when we were house hunting, and it was dumpy on the inside—far more of a fixer-upper than we could handle.

  “Maybe it was purchased by a contractor,” I said, “and he’s going to renovate it, flip it, and make a huge profit, because this is a pretty high-demand neighborhood. We probably should have thought of that ourselves.”

  Wes chuckled and shook his head. “If only I had the skills.”

  I laughed, because it was a running joke between us—how completely unhandy Wes was around the house when it came to fixing things.

  He pulled on his winter gloves and went to the shed in the backyard to fetch a shovel to clear the snow off the walk.